Phantom Silhouette
by cherrygurl1225
Summary: The phantom silhouette wraps itself – himself – around her. He invades the intimate space, her vivid dreams. He tries to keep her distanced from the person she longs for, the person she craves even unconsciously.


**Tru Calling: Phantom Silhouette **

* * *

**Author's Note: **I don't really know what inspired me to write this other than the fact that I knew I wanted to write morbidly dark and eerie Tru Calling fic and this title found its way into my head. Mood/inspiration music for about half of this fic is a song called Crave You (Adventure Club Dubstep Remix) by Flight Facilities. Enjoy!

* * *

His eerie presence wraps itself around her.

His eyes gleam hungrily in the dim light as he advances towards where she sits huddled in a corner.

"Tru," he speaks her name almost patronizingly, layers of malice threatening to bubble to the surface.

Her hands are bound together with thick rope that doesn't give.

"Jensen, stop," she says forcefully, but her command comes out breathy and the weight of her words don't seem to faze him. She tries to kick him and roll away, but her muscles spasm and she pulls back.

The echo of his laughter wraps itself around her and the last thought she has before the chloroform-soaked cloth plunges her into an abysmal darkness is that she hopes Jack finds her before it is too late.

* * *

She awakens to a man's voice calling her name, pulling her out of the abyss.

Her blurry vision meets Jack's face as he steadies her, comforting hands on her shoulders. Worry is etched in the lines of his face as her vision slowly starts to come into focus and she lets out a soft breath.

"Jack, what…"

"It's okay, Tru. The paramedics are here. They're gonna take a look at you."

"But Jensen, he-…"

"_Shhh,_" he whispers, keeping his voice low. "I took care of him. That's over now."

The tone of his voice, even in a whisper, tells her everything she needs to know.

Jensen is dead.

Carefully, he pulls her to her feet and guides her out of the abandoned warehouse, falling into step beside her and resting a gentle hand on the small of her back.

Neither one of them speak his name for the remainder of the night.

* * *

Jack takes Tru back to his apartment after promising the paramedics that if her condition worsens, he'll take her to the hospital immediately.

He knows that is the last place Tru wants to be right now. It's written all over her face clear as day, though he wonders if anyone else can see what he sees. She tries to hide her pain, the hurt, the horror. She dismisses her injuries – the blossoming bruise on her cheek, the bleeding cut above her eye, her chaffed, raw wrists – as "no big deal," but her body posture is what unsettles Jack the most.

The way her body moves, he notices, suggests she's psychologically unstable. The movements of her body suggest that she needs rest spanning several days, maybe a few weeks. Days of not rushing around on spikes of pumping adrenaline and triple shots of caffeine. Lines of exhaustion crease her injured face and she barely says anything to him on the drive to his apartment.

He guides her up the stairs, through his front door, propelling her forward with each hesitant step.

"Where… where am I?" she asks, breaking the stretch of interminable silence that shatters the unspoken intimacy between them. Her eyes are unfocused and dart in every direction as they examine the unfamiliar space.

He pulls his hand from her back and his cold fingers flip on a switch, allowing a stream of light to filter through the hallway.

_Home,_ he almost says, but falters because he knows that word is not true. He immediately regrets even thinking of the word, but a part of him longs to give her some tangible sense of security, some palpable sense of safety.

"You're in my apartment," he tells her. "Sorry for the mess, but come on. This way."

He leads her to his bedroom and steers her towards the bed. She sits precariously on the edge, waiting, unmoving, dark brown eyes full of vigilance.

"I'll be fine on your couch," she whispers quietly as he takes off his jacket.

"No. Absolutely not." His voice is gentle, firm, authoritative. "I'll take the couch. I end up there most nights anyway. You can take my bed."

"I'm not sleeping in your bed, Jack," her voice rises in protest.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he studies her for a moment and sighs.

"Just for tonight, Tru," he persuades gently. "Just for tonight."

* * *

The phantom silhouette wraps itself – _himself_ – around her. He invades the intimate space, her vivid dreams. He tries to keep her distanced from the person she longs for, the person she craves even unconsciously.

The unknown presence in the room keeps watch, keeps time. Time may not matter to him anymore, but to the young woman thrashing in her sleep on the bed in front of him and to the man who comes rushing in moments later, time is at its highest peak.

He just watches. The phantom silhouette of Jensen Ritchie lingers, but remains hidden, unseen, invisible.

"Tru," Jack whispers desperately. He doesn't want to shake her, but he touches her shoulder blade, then brings his hand up to caress her sweaty, distressed face. "Tru…"

Her eyes fly open suddenly and the simple feeling of his palm warm and present against her skin is enough to soothe her.

"Jack, I-…"

"You were having a nightmare." His thumb wipes a tear that falls down her cheek.

"But it felt real," she objects, though the tone of her voice is soft and honest and doesn't sound as though she's disagreeing with Jack's words.

She takes a few deep, calming breaths before Jack sees her shoulders visibly relax and her body stops trembling. Reaching towards him, she takes one of his hands and tugs gently.

"Stay," she murmurs. "Just for tonight."

A flicker of understanding and recognition crosses Jack's features when he hears Tru's words, the words that echoed his exactly only a few hours before.

Jack slips into bed beside her and when she rests her head on his chest, his arm wraps around her instinctively. She closes her eyes, lulled into sleep by the sound of his steady heartbeat. He presses a soft kiss into her hair and not long after, he falls asleep, too.

He doesn't know what he'll tell Richard later; she doesn't know what she'll tell Harrison or Davis.

But they both know that right now, all they need is each other. All they have is each other.

The phantom silhouette chuckles softly, letting the two forbidden lovers bask in peaceful slumber.

On the way out, he bumps into the dream catcher Jack has hanging above his bed and Tru stirs slightly but does not wake as this unknown entity escapes into infinite darkness.

_Fin. _


End file.
